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In America most of us probably form a mental picture of the people who celebrated the first Thanksgiving, dressed in their austere black clothing, complete with funny hats. For some, the word might bring to mind John Bunyan’s allegory, Pilgrim’s Progress. Others may think about the pilgrimage that Muslims must make to Mecca once in a lifetime.

Each of those mental pictures evokes a similar concept: travelling.

When we think of the “Thanksgiving Pilgrims”, the ones who came to America on the Mayflower and landed on Plymouth Rock, we generally are thinking about people traveled to a land where they would have religious freedom. On the other hand, Pilgrim’s Progress focuses on a different kind of journey, a journey to the “Heavenly City”. And the Muslims’ pilgrimage to Mecca is also a journey. For some, it is a short distance; for others, it involves great expense and a trip to the other side of the world.

Generally speaking, when we think of a pilgrim, we think of someone who is on a journey. Although that’s true, it’s not the complete Biblical picture.

In Hebrews 11:13, the King James Version reads, “These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth” (Heb 11:13 KJV).

But the word that is translated “pilgrims” here is better translated as “resident aliens”, “sojourners”, or even “exiles”.

Peter uses the same word to describe Christians when he writes, “Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul,” (1Pe 2:11 ESV).

How do you view your life here on Earth?

Do you see yourself as a resident alien, a sojourner, an exile?

What does that even look like?

It seems to me that most Christians in America (myself included) live lives that don’t remotely resemble the lifestyle of a sojourner or exile.

The old hymn lyric goes, “This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through.”

Based on the general conduct of Christians in America, it might be more accurate to sing, “This world is not my home, but I’m going to enjoy it as long and as much as I can.”

Are you an exile?

I hope so.

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What do you think? Keep the discussion going by adding your comments below.

Is it just me, or are we seeing less and less “thanks” on Thanksgiving?

It seems that with every passing year the last Thursday in November has less to do with thankfulness and more to do with consumerism. That trend is most dramatically illustrated in the morphing of the holiday name from “Thanksgiving” into “Turkey Day”.

I remember a few years back the first time I heard Thanksgiving referred to as “Turkey Day”. At first, I was taken aback by the reference, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to feel that “Turkey Day” might be precisely the right name for what we used to call Thanksgiving.

Of course, we could also call it Football Day.

Or perhaps: Black Friday Eve.

And now that more and more stores are staying open on Thanksgiving to get a jump on the pre-Christmas business, maybe we should just start calling it Black Thursday.

I know I may sound as if I’m ranting against others, but as I look at myself I can often see a profound lack of thankfulness in my own life. It is very easy to look at the state of the world and be anything but thankful. The world’s economy is in shambles. Young men and women are dying in Iraq and Afghanistan. There is political uncertainty all around us and the increasing threat from countries such as Iran.

What’s to give thanks for, anyway?

It’s when I’m feeling like this that I remember my favorite Bible verses. They come at the end of the book of Habakkuk. When the prophet Habakkuk faces the impending destruction of his own nation by the Babylonians, a destruction that is coming as a direct result of God’s judgment, he says: “Though the fig tree does not bud, and there are no grapes on the vines. Though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food. Though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord. I will rejoice in God my savior. The sovereign Lord is my strength. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer. He enables me to walk on the heights (Habakkuk 3:17-19).

It is when things are darkest that we must give thanks. For only thanksgiving removes our gaze from the circumstances and lifts it to the Lord of the circumstances.

In this week before Thanksgiving, take time to lift your eyes to God and thank Him for all the good things in your life.

Don’t celebrate Turkey Day this year.

Give Thanks.

This particular conference had two tracks: amateur and professional. To attend the professional workshops, you had to have had two pieces published. Well, it just so happened that about five years earlier I had sold two short stories (to Sunday school publications).

That qualified me as a pro.

When I arrived at the conference I looked down my nose at all the poor “wannabe” writers who had to attend the amateur workshops, all the while knowing that I would be hobnobbing with other professional writers. I was eager to learn all the writing secrets of the pros that would guarantee great success and launch my career as a bestselling author.

When I went home, I was probably the most discouraged “pro” who ever walked the earth—or at least who attended that conference.

Instead of learning writing secrets that were going to take my prose to a stellar level, I learned that publishers expected authors to market their own books. I learned the ins and outs of author marketing, how much work it was, how expensive it could be, and how frustrating it could be.

I walked out of that conference with my rose-colored glasses lying shattered on the floor.

And I’m very grateful.

Granted, at that point in my writing career, I should have stayed in the “amateur” track and gone to workshops that would have helped me develop my craft. Nevertheless, the marketing workshops opened my eyes to an ongoing reality in publishing: Authors are expected to do most of the marketing for their own books.

We may not like it, but that’s how it is.

Author marketing was important back in the late ‘90s; it’s essential now.

We are expected to come to the table with a “platform”, a marketing strategy, an awareness of social media and how to use it. We are expected to not only write our books, but also to sell them.

At first, I complained.

I am a writer, not a salesman. If I had wanted to be a marketer, I would have gone into marketing. Besides, I don’t know anything about selling. On top of that, I’m an introvert. If I tried to make a living at selling, I’d starve to death.

After I ranted for a while, I realized that all my complaints hadn’t changed a thing (except perhaps my blood pressure).

If I wanted to be a published author, I would have to learn how to market myself and my work. That’s just how it was.

Now, six books later (with a seventh on the way), I’m still not a great marketer—but I’m learning.

That’s the key.

At least it was for me.

When I decided that I wanted to be a writer, I studied. I read books on how to write fiction. I read and studied novels. I read more books on how to write fiction. I wrote novels. (Do you see a pattern here?)

And that’s what I’m doing now. I’m learning.

I read books on marketing and platform-building. I keep up to date with the latest blogs. I’m learning how to use Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn. I’m learning how to blog effectively (got a long way to go on that one).

The point is, you can complain and be frustrated all you want, but it doesn’t change a thing.

If you’re going to be an author in today’s publishing world, you absolutely have to market. You need to build a platform. You need to learn how to effectively use social media.

So, if you’re like I was and don’t know how to do these things. It’s time to start studying.

If I can do it, you can do it.

I don’t play the lottery. And I have no millionaire relatives. And I don’t own the mineral rights to our land. So, none of these windfalls are likely to be coming my way. However, I do have an imagination. And from time to time I have allowed myself to fantasize about how I would react if I suddenly came into a huge amount of money.

I’d be overwhelmed with joy.

I can see myself now, outside, dancing in my front yard, and shouting “Woohoo!” until the 100+ degree Texas heat causes me to drop over with exhaustion.

With that in mind, I felt  rather guilty when I read today’s verse from Biblegateway.com:  “I rejoice in following your statutes as one rejoices in great riches” (Psalm 119:14, NIV).

Hmmmmmm. When was the last time I was outside, dancing in my front yard and shouting “Woohoo!” about God’s word?

Yet time after time, the Scriptures declare themselves to be a treasure far surpassing the most opulent worldly wealth.

In Psalm 19, the psalmist declares God’s words to be  “more precious than gold,  than much pure gold,” (Psalm 19:10a, NIV). In another place, the psalmist writes, “The law from your mouth is more precious to me than thousands of pieces of silver and gold,” (Psalm 119:72, NIV).

At this writing, gold is selling for just under $1200 an ounce;  silver’s a bit cheaper at about $18 per ounce.  But who of us would turn up our noses at thousands of pieces of silver and gold?

Yet often my Bible gathers dust while I watch TV. Or devote my attention to things that have no eternal significance.

Do I really believe that God’s word is more valuable than anything this world offers?

If so, how should that be reflected in my life?

Just wondering.

Nor do I wonder about God’s presence in my life when he is tangibly pouring out his blessings.

Most often, I wonder where God is during the dry times of life, the times when I feel like I’m wandering in a desert. Or when it seems as if I’m feeling my way through a thick fog bank, not knowing which way to go or what to do. When things aren’t particularly bad or good, but life itself seems like an exercise in frustration.

That is when I want to stand on my front porch and cry out into the gray cloud banks surrounding me, “God? Are you still there?”

As I cry, I am often greeted with stony silence. I look. I listen. I cry out again, but He is nowhere to be seen or felt. It is at those times that I feel like the psalmist who wrote, “Why, O LORD, do you reject me and hide your face from me?” (Psalm 88:14, NIV).

Yet in the midst of that fog, God has not left me without comfort, for it is in times such as these that I look to His word and am reminded of his watchful care. Jesus said “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows,” (Luke 12:6-7, NIV)

Even when I cannot feel Him, cannot sense His presence, God reminds me that He is there. For if He does not forget a single sparrow, and he numbers the hairs on my head, He has not forgotten about me.

And so I must put away fear and despair, and trust in the One who knows the location and behavior of every molecule in the universe–even when I cannot sense his presence.

But what if I asked you to name the most frequently quoted and least believed Bible verse?

There might be some debate on this one, but I think that Romans 8:28 is the prime candidate: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

We love to quote that verse to other people when they are faced with trials or tragedies. However, when we’re the ones who are hurting, that’s usually the last verse we want to hear.

Some of that is understandable. When we are in the midst of deep grief, often our emotions are so jumbled up that we can’t think rationally. All we know is that we are hurting and we can’t see any good that can come from our pain.

But often, even when we have moved out of the initial shock of grief, we still ask the question: “God, why?”

When we look at a trial or tragedy and say, “How could God let this happen?” we are acting in unbelief. Worse than that, we are accusing God of wrongdoing. Such a question assumes that somehow God has promised that nothing bad will happen to us.

But God never made such a promise.

What he did promise was that if we love him and are called according to his purpose, he would work everything together for our good.

If we believe that, the question, “Why, God?” becomes moot. The proper response is, “Yes, Lord. I don’t understand what’s happening right now, but I know that you do. And I will trust you and rest in your wisdom, goodness, and sovereign love.”

What are you trusting him for today?

One phrase that has caught my attention and refused to let go is found in verse 2: “How blessed are those who. . . seek [God] with all their heart,” Psalm 119:2 NET

I often have found myself pondering those words and wondering what it means to seek God with all my heart. Does it mean that I become a monk, isolating myself and praying 24/7? Does it mean that I neglect my family and sit around reading the Bible all day long? Does it mean that I become like Anna the prophetess (Luke 2) and practically live at church?

As I was thinking about these verses, one day God brought to mind two others that shed some light on what it means to seek God with all my heart.

Paul told the Thessalonians to “pray without ceasing,” I Thessalonians 5:17 KJV. We know that he doesn’t mean we are to be on our knees every waking moment. Rather, Paul meant that believers should be in a constant attitude of prayer.

Another helpful statement came from the Lord Jesus. He said that we are to “above all pursue His [God's] kingdom and righteousness,” Matthew 6:33 NET. In other words, our first priority is to seek or pursue the Kingdom of God.

What, then, does it mean to seek God with all my heart? Putting it simply, it means that He is first. He is my top priority, my greatest desire, my highest joy. He comes first in all I do, say, or think. He governs my decisions, my use of time and money, and all my interpersonal relationships.

It means I am like the man who found a treasure hidden in a field, and who sold all he had to buy that field, Matthew 13:44.

May God grant us all the grace to seek Him with all our hearts today, and every day.

As a result, I became quite good at building fires.

Because I found it difficult to sleep with rocks digging into my back, I was usually the first one up every morning. When I would step out of our tent into the frigid morning air, my first thought was to get the fire going as quickly as possible. By now the wood had burned down to tiny coals and only a thin wisp of smoke trailed up from the fire pit.

I’d get some fresh twigs and leaves and put them on top of the coals, blow on them, and in a few seconds flames would break out. Then I’d put on more wood and it wouldn’t be long before I had a good strong fire burning again.

In recent years, I’ve begun to look at my spiritual life–and particularly my daily devotions–that way.

When I wake up in the morning, my spiritual condition is often like burned-down coals in a fire pit. There’s some smoke, but not much flame or heat. My task every morning is to fan into flame my joy, zeal, and love for the Lord. I have a routine that includes reading five psalms, a chapter of proverbs, several chapters from other portions of scripture, six or seven prayers from a prayer book titled “The Valley of Vision”, and reading some devotions by Jonathan Edwards and Charles Spurgeon. The routine takes almost an hour, but by the end of it, I’m ready to go out and face whatever challenges God may send my way.

Is your daily time with the Lord focused toward a goal? Or are you just going through the motions of reading from the Bible and praying because that’s what Christians are supposed to do?

Consider looking at your time with God as an opportunity to fan into flame your love for Him every day. It will change your outlook on the entire day.

“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands,” (2 Timothy 1:6, NIV).

One week, one of the young people asked a question he was sure would leave me baffled: “If God only put people on planet Earth, why is the universe so big?”

I smiled and replied, “That’s a no-brainer. No matter how big the universe is, God is bigger. We see His glory and power reflected in the vastness of the universe.”

Since that time, I’ve given thought to that answer and feel I need to revise it just a bit.

God is not only larger than the universe, He is infinitely larger. The universe is so massive that now, with space-based telescopes such as Hubble, we can probe deeper than we ever have before. Yet astronomers still cannot plumb the depths of space, still cannot find the end. But the universe is finite. It does have an end.

When we understand that our God is infinite, we realize that this vast universe in which we live is little more than a grain of sand in comparison with God.

Now, about those problems we have that we think are too big for God to handle…

“The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” (Psalm 19:1, NIV)